Rough Draft

... a stone, a leaf, an unfound door; of a leaf, a stone, a door. And of all the forgotten faces.

Naked and alone we came into exile. In her dark womb, we did not know our mother's face; from the prison of her flesh have we come into the unspeakable and incommunicable prison of this earth.

Which of us has known his brother? Which of us has looked into his father's heart? Which of us has not remained forever prison-pent? Which of us is not forever a stranger and alone?

... O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again.


My phone vibrations brought about an unexpected call from heaven, an ordinary voice resembled an angel's voice, bringing home the good news that what was desired had been clinched and it couldn't have come at a better time. And for a single moment, this place isn't all that dark and cold and lonely after all.

But one moment in time isn't enough to melt the solid ice dagger that had pierced that rose red, beautiful heart. A sudden rise of temperature, it beated; but the icy wind that howled in the far distance calmed all that down. And it remained, like before, warm blood froze into icicles of life.

posted by cigarettelove @ 5:15 AM